


Learning to Read

by dorcasdeadowes



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: AU, Alcohol Abuse, Bookstore AU, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hospitalization, Mental Illness, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Postpartum Psychosis, Sickness, Suicide mention, War PTSD, Widojest Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 10:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19765984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorcasdeadowes/pseuds/dorcasdeadowes
Summary: "She was truly something to behold, book on her knee and wonder in her eyes. There was no line between the world and the story she told. There was no line between her own excitement and the children’s rapt attention."In which Caleb owns a bookshop and business is saved by a young woman with blue hair and a paintbrush.





	Learning to Read

**Author's Note:**

> For Widojest Week day 5: AU
> 
> Posting a little early because I won't have time tomorrow!

The Burnt Biblios had begun, as had most of Caleb’s achievements, as a pipe dream. Unlike all other achievements, however, it didn’t force him upright in the dark of night, sweating through his sheets, and the ghost of a gun in his hand.

War had seemed such a noble goal once upon a time. With his astute mind and impeccable work ethic, he knew he could start high and stoof only to raise himself higher.

His parents had cooed over their wunderkind; his gleaming medals and ever-increasing importance. Swollen paycheque after swollen paycheque paid off their oldest and most entrenched debts. Soon enough, the Widogast family had shed the skin of poverty through the power of their only child. It was a pride unrivalled in their small hometown.

So Caleb didn’t say that war wasn’t what he had imagined. He confided in no one the guilt that sat heavy on his chest, crushing all chance of rest.

The man who had once been so charming and bold still presented himself as such. But when alone, he let himself wallow in the hollowness he’d earnt.

There were just six months left of active duty. Just six months and then he could retire at the ripe old age of twenty-eight. Maybe he’d get one of those jobs where you could just sit and stare lifelessly ahead until clock-out. He’d make a good bank teller. He was good with numbers.

Six months, it turned out, was too much to ask for.

He was stationed in Afghanistan, following orders from a higher up who was stationed in Washington – some seven thousand miles away from the horrors he designed.

“We’ve gotta take out that building,” said the puppet of their commander.

“It’s a school,” said Caleb.

“That’s where the target is hiding.”

“But it’s a school.”

His protests were brushed off with irritation and his fellows marched on to bring down the school. They didn’t do a sweep. They didn’t evacuate innocents. A risk assessment had already been made from a seven thousand mile distance.

Down came the building.

And Caleb just… broke.

Far longer than six months passed before Caleb was relieved from his ward. The paycheques had reached their unnatural end and the poverty that his parents had waved goodbye to was greeted as an old friend.

They didn’t tell him they’d remortgaged the house. They didn’t have to.

“I can come home now,” he told them during a visit. “I’m better.”

“We just want to be sure, darling,” said his mother softly.

“But it’s expensive.”

“It’s worth it,” said his father.

He could not deny that it was helping; the evidence was clear. It had been three years since he’d tried to overdose. It had been a year and a half since he’d even considered trying.

Still, there was the unshakable loneliness. He could not relate easily to his fellows. Not in the way he had once carried friendships with casual ease. He could not drop his guard around just anyone. Similar problems did not mean similar hearts.

And then Nott arrived; a blistering comet in a sterile, soulless sky.

Which felt like an absurd thing to feel at the sight of someone signing in under suicide watch. It should have been exclusively tragic. Caleb had learnt, however, in his time at the ward, that something born of tragedy could lend itself to hope. Even if only a little.

She was a bedraggled thing, wreaking of vomit and liquor.

His first instinct was to feel irritated; his parents could not afford him a private room, but the other bed hadn’t had an occupant for some time and he’d gotten used to the privilege of being the only voice screaming in the night.

But he saw the woman, desperately trying to kick free, and it was as though she’d kicked down the door to his heart.

“I’m fine!” she cried, high pitched and warbling. “I’m fine. Just take me home!”

Caleb had heard that before. Most who’d screamed that sort of thing to high heavens had yet to be heard by any God.

“She won’t let us wash her,” mumbled one nurse.

“Best to just get her calm,” said another.

“She wasn’t this bad in the ambulance.”

Caleb watched as they wrestled her to the bed, calling, all the while, for a sedative.

They were lucky she was small for she was a truly feisty creature. Had she graced five feet in height, he thought she’d have done some damage on her way down.

He was thankful she hadn’t, though. Most patients did not have room in their conscience for more guilt.

Once the woman had been forcibly settled, a nurse met eyes with Caleb and said, “Sorry for the disturbance, Mr. Widogast.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” he said, remembering his own presence in reality. It was a bitter taste. With a nod at the bed beside his, he asked, “Will she be okay?”

“She will be. Once the booze wears off.”

Caleb nodded slowly.

He gave the woman one last glance. Even in sleep her face was pulled taut into a grimace. He could see that her dreams would not be sweet. Then the curtains were pulled around her bed and Caleb did not see her again until the following evening.

He usually tried to spend as much time out of his room as possible. It lessened the feeling of being trapped. He did not want to grow to resent a place that was truly his salvation. But in spite his best efforts, he often grew tired of company and would disappear into his own world for a few hours a day; book in his lap, away from prying eyes. He stayed out a little longer than was comfortable that day. It was only polite, he believed, to let his new roommate settle in without his ceaseless presence.

After dinner, however, voices grew too loud, too much, and a Volunteer had turned up with a showbiz smile and a determination to charades.

Caleb could not stomach it.

With a gentle push on the door, Caleb entered.

The woman was sitting upright when he returned. She’d been washed and changed since he’d seen her last. The wild look in her eyes, though, had not been tamed.

“Who are you?” she snapped immediately.

“Oh, I’m Caleb,” he replied softly.

“What are you here for?”

“I sleep there,” he said, pointing at the neatly made bed a few feet from hers.

Her bulging eyes receded somewhat and Caleb took that to mean she wouldn’t be too taken aback if he went to sit on the edge of his own bed.

He was wrong.

The moment he moved, she leapt out of her own skin. He wondered if someone had hurt her and felt bad for testing the waters.

“Sorry if I startled you,” he said.

“It’s okay. It’s fine. Sorry,” she stammered, wriggling into her sheets until she was settled once more. “I’ve just gotten a little skittish recently. It’s worse without the drink. Caleb, wasn’t it?”

“Caleb Widogast. And you’re Veth, yeah?” he replied, nodding at the card that had been fitted at the foot of the bed along with her file.

“I’m not,” she said.

“You’re Nott?”

“I’m not.”

“Okay, Nott.”

“I didn’t mean it… I mean… okay. It’s better than the other name.”

“Better is good.”

She didn’t respond to that, instead she looked around the room as though it was the first time she’d ever seen it.

“I thought this was rehab,” she said, her gaze finally settling on the bandages which mummified both of Caleb’s forearms and palms. “But it’s something else, isn’t it?”

“This is a hospital.”

“I’m not sick. I just drank too much.”

“Well, it’s a hospital for the mind.”

“I’m not sick there either.”

“Okay.”

And they left it at that.

* * *

Nott was a wordless, but not entirely silent roommate. She would stare at herself in the mirror for hours on end before letting out a feral scream and pulling at her black hair until she needed to be sedated.

She only left the room when necessary or if she wanted to speak on the phone without Caleb overhearing.

It was her business, he thought. But sometimes she sent him these looks, mouth half-open on the brink of conversation. Before she ever started, she stopped herself, bit her tongue, and went back to staring in the mirror, at her hands, or the ceiling.

Then, one night, after staring from across the room at his arm-wrappings for a good twenty minutes, she asked, “What are you in for?”

Caleb blinked back his surprise and said, “Oh. I’ve seen a lot. Done a lot. Too much.”

“Are you better? I don’t mean ‘better’ I just mean… are you better now than you were when you first got here?”

“Oh yeah.”

“See,” she said. “See, this place makes me feel worse.”

“You miss the drink?”

“I miss how it made me feel,” she admitted. “The woman I was. I’m not her anymore. I don’t know how to get back to her. It’s like I’m a stranger in my own body. Like the person I was before is gone and all that’s left is this husk.”

“I know a little something about that.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. A little.”

Silence fell and Caleb suddenly felt a panic rise through him. He wanted to catch it and push it off before it settled.

“You use the phone a lot,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

“My husband worries about me. He likes to talk to me every day.”

“That’s good. Having people who care is good. The people here – they care as well.”

“I don’t think they can talk me better though. They keep wanting me to picture the future when all this has passed.”

“Really? That seems strange to me. All my sessions so far have been about how I’m feeling about the past – in the present”

“Well… it might have something to do with the reason I’m in here. My past isn’t the problem. And my present is sort of… all future now.”

“How so?”

“I had a baby.”

“Oh,” said Caleb.

He wondered if he should congratulate her, but circumstance told him not to presume.

Nott kept speaking, “A little boy. His name is Luc. He’s perfect. But I felt… I don’t know.”

“Like you’d lost yourself? You didn’t want to be a mother?”

“All I want is to be a mother. I don’t think I can be though. I mean, look at me.”

“I am looking at you.”

“Well, you didn’t know what I was before, I suppose. But the world feels different now. It’s itchy and uncomfortable. And I don’t know what’s real. Sometimes it’ll be a few days until I realise a memory I thought actually happened was just a hallucination. The drinking smoothed all of that out. It made the world a little quieter.” Nott paused to swallow hard. “Now they want me to think about my future and to think about the mother I’m going to be when I get out. But I’m not a mother now. And if carrying Luc inside me for nine months didn’t do it I don’t know what will.”

Caleb nodded along as though he understood. But he didn’t, of course. Or if he did it was in an abstract way. 

Nott began to cry and Caleb regretted pressing her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, palming her eyes. “I miss him. I miss both of them. They want to move me to a different hospital so I can have Luc stay with me. But I can’t look at him. It hurts too much.”

“Don’t be sorry,” said Caleb. “I am sorry for making you speak of it.”

“You didn’t make me. And the crying feels good. Sort of. I haven’t cried properly since I had Luc.”

“Then I am happy to have helped.”

She smiled through her tears at him and he tried to respond with sufficient strength. Anyone observing their exchange would be hard put to find any happiness there. It was felt, though. A twinge of something sweet.

Caleb thought perhaps that would be the end of it. But the following morning she prompted conversation with no sign of retreat.

The rigidness with which she held herself fell ever slacker in his presence until one day she told her attendant she’d like to take breakfast in the dining hall with the other patients.

And what had become a tentative friendship grew rapidly into unequivocal family. Though he still called her ‘Nott.’ Names were tricky, he knew; what people called you. One of the other patients had jokingly referred to him as ‘The Sergeant’ for a good month before Caleb mustered the courage to ask them to stop.

Nott didn’t interact much with the other patients, but he heard the staff call her ‘Veth’ or ‘Mrs. Brenatto.’ He doubted, too, that her husband had taken to referring to his wife as ‘Nott’ especially when it was so intrinsically linked to her breakdown. So Caleb made sure to call her ‘Nott’ and only ‘Nott.’ He saw how she flinched at one name and relaxed under the feather weight of the other.

It felt as though the trajectory of his recovery had accelerated the roof off of the building. From only trusting two people completely to trusting three in such a short amount of time, the world had shifted.

That did not mean, however, that he felt ready to meet Nott’s husband. But she had agreed for him to bring Luc for a ‘monitored bonding session’ and the two men were left to hover awkwardly outside the room.

Yeza was small; only a few inches taller than his wife. He studied Caleb with a good-natured squint under glasses that could have belonged to an anthropomorphized cartoon father figure.

“My wife’s told me what a help you’ve been,” he said with a smile. “It’s good that she has you.”

There was nothing hidden behind the sentiment. Caleb saw the man’s love for his wife; unadulterated and unaltered.

Caleb wanted to say he felt the same way, that he was so deeply grateful that his dearest friend had such an unwavering source of love. But it didn’t feel like his place.

Instead, he said, “We understand each other,” as though it were that simple.

Perhaps it was.

* * *

Her company was comforting. Her loss, too, was a comfort. After all, if Nott felt well enough to agree to be moved to a room with her son, then there was hope for others. Even others such as Caleb.

And eventually Caleb’s therapy too turned from trauma to the future. More hope than tragedy.

Joanna smiled across from him, clipboard on her knee. It was a familiar sight. One that had started out a terrifying unknown and had become habit.

“Have you thought about what comes next?” she asked.

“I’ll have to move back in with my parents.”

“Well, yes, but I meant career-wise?”

Caleb thought hard. His previous dreams of spending the rest of his life staring into space felt like a prison sentence.

“What do you like?” she prompted.

After a beat, he replied, “Books. I like books.”

Joanna’s smile grew wider.

“Well, Caleb, I think we can work with that.”

Visions of the future came to him in the form of librarian or bookstore assistant. They felt solid, tangible. He had a goal to strive for.

There was, however, the back burning pipe dream of owning his own store. It had been an offhand suggestion of Joanna’s which he’d immediately dismissed. He couldn’t afford that. He’d be using his parents’ bank account to pay for soaps and socks once he was out.

Nott kept in touch in spite of their separation. And the day Nott was sent home with Luc on her chest, Caleb was one of the first to know. Caleb waited for Nott to call him before he revealed his own return home and she scolded him for it.

“I didn’t want to bother you, you know, you have a young baby,” he said.

“Caleb!” she snapped back. “It’s big news! I want you to bother me with it!”

They usually spoke on the phone which was why when a heavy envelope arrived with her handwriting sprawled across the front, Caleb was both surprised and panicked.

It felt important. Which meant it was bad news. Most likely.

With trembling hands, he peeled it open and unfolded the three pages within. As he did, a small cheque floated to the ground.

He bent down to collect it, confusion growing. Then he saw the number of zeros; promised to him from ‘Veth Brenatto’ and confusion gave way to a stopped heart.

Understanding or gratitude was beyond him in that moment. He scanned the letter for answers while failing to actually read any of the words that Nott had weaved beneath his nose.

“Is everything alright, darling?” asked his mother.

He realised then that she’d been watching him the entire time and it did not take a clear mind to see worry had overcome her.

“Fine, mother,” he said firmly. “I’m just… a little taken aback.”

“Is it bad news?”

“No. I don’t… don’t think so. I’m sorry, but could you read this for me.”

She happily seized upon the opportunity to offer tangible help.

“Dear Caleb,” she began, but quickly after she turned to silent reading. “Oh, darling, this seems personal.”

“Does it seem like something bad has happened?”

“No. Nothing bad. Just kind words from your friend. The one from the hospital.”

“Why would she send me this?” he asked.

“What is it?”

Caleb knew there was no point in trying to hide it from her. He wasn’t going to accept the money anyway (no matter the circumstances it was offered under), so he passed over the slightly crumpled cheque and listened to his mother gasp like she’d just witnessed the world’s first moving picture.

“Darling!” she cried. “This is enough for your shop.”

“It’s enough to pay off the mortgage.”

“Forget our mortgage. You’ve paid it off once already.”

Caleb shook his head, but his mother was excitedly flipping to the final part of the letter and saying, “Besides, it’s better to invest in a business – Oh! Here! Here she ends it, ‘I will never truly be able to pay you back for all you’ve done, but if this can help you get your bookshop then it’s worth it. Signed – Your eternal friend Veth.’”

“But how can she afford it?”

“I don’t know, Caleb. You know her better than I do.”

Caleb scrambled up the stairs to find his phone and dialled for Nott (Veth, he corrected silently. She was Veth now. Again. He should not forget it).

“Hello, Caleb!” she answered brightly.

“I don’t want to trigger anything, but did you send me this cheque in your right mind?”

Veth laughed, “Yes, Caleb. I knew exactly what I was doing.”

“How could you afford this? I mean, you can’t possibly afford this.”

He heard Yeza’s voice somewhere in the background of the call asking, “Is that Caleb?”

“It is.”

“Hello, Caleb!”

“He can’t hear you. Wait, I’ll put him on speaker.”

“Is it on speaker now?”

“Yeah.”

“Hello, Caleb!”

Caleb said, “Hello, Yeza.”

“Did you get our cheque?”

“I did. I cannot pretend to understand what possessed you to send it, though.”

Veth cut in, “Did you not read my letter?”

“Not all of it,” he admitted. “I wanted to call you. I needed to hear you confirm it, I suppose.”

“Listen, you go read my letter. You accept the money. And you invite us to the opening,” she said firmly. “Is that clear?”

Unable to say anything else, he replied, “Okay.”

He walked back down the stairs slowly, considering how to go about denying the money and fearful of the compassion he was bound to find within the full letter.

By the time he reached the final paragraph, tears were falling from his eyes onto the paper.

It read, “You showed me that I have the capacity for motherhood and it saved my life. I cannot make that clear enough. Now, Yeza’s been given a bunch of grants for his new project. He couldn’t possibly need them all. And he says he owes you as much as I do. So we want you to have the same second chance you gave our family. You’re too brilliant to be working under someone else. You’re going to do so well and pay us back in no time (I’m just kidding. You don’t have to pay us back. Unless you make millions. Can you make millions from book stores anymore?). It doesn’t matter. I will never truly be able to pay you back for all you’ve done, but if this can help you get your bookshop then it’s worth it. Signed - Your eternal friend Veth.”

Ah, he thought, so there truly was no denying the offer.

* * *

He began looking at properties without delay. It was a longer process than anyone else expected, but he was meticulous in his selection. In his long hours of pipe dreaming, he’d envisioned something very specific. And when he found it, he knew it. 

It was a few towns away. Close enough to his parents but also a good number of miles closer to the Brenatto family. There was an old oak counter near the front door along with several arches and hidden corners so as to allow him to create a little world for each sections. Right near the back was a curtain that hid a small box-shaped room which he could use for storage and hiding when he felt particularly overwhelmed by customers (though he was aware he’d have to hire someone to help out before he could make full use of it).

It also included a living space above the shop and that was very important to him. He loved his parents but nothing had made him feel like more of a failure than returning to sleep in his childhood bedroom each night, staring with newfound disgust at the abundance of Tarantino posters.

With the absurd amount of money he could offer, the place was his without qualm. He moved in as soon as possible, but continued to be meticulous with the shop itself.

Each section needed to be presented properly; filled with books he knew to be good or beloved. He had no interest in selling bad literature. He also had no interest in padding out the history section with war. Instead he focused on civilian stories; society; culture; the people who lived through it all rather than the methods with which they destroyed one another.

He also got himself an orange cat, similar to the one he’d had as a boy.

Veth would call him often and ask when the launch party was.

“Soon,” he’d promise. “It just needs to be perfect.”

He would then tell her stories of the new cat, who he’d named Frumpkin, and Veth pretended as best she could to sound interested. Though he made sure, learning from previous mistakes, that she was the first to know when the shop was ready to open.

She stood proudly beside her husband, who balanced their boy on his hip. He grinned at her, then at his parents, standing just a few feet from the Brenatto bunch.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes!” screamed Veth. “We’ve been ready for months!”

They all laughed save for Caleb who had turned his attention to the sheet covering the sign. With a flourish, it was revealed.

“The Burn Biblios,” said his father, reading aloud. “What does it mean?”

After Caleb’s third explanation that ‘biblios’ meant ‘books,’ his parents, Yeza, and Luc ventured inside to place down the various party snacks they’d brought for the launch that afternoon.

Veth wandered over to Caleb and said, “You know, for someone who was hospitalised due to war PTSD, you have an unhealthy interest in fire.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re going to keep the name?”

“Oh, for sure.”

Veth considered the sign for a long moment before saying, “I like it. I mean, it does sound like you’re going to burn the books.”

Caleb laughed.

* * *

Business proved quiet. Dangerously so. And while he had Frumpkin for company, he knew logically that for the business to survive it would need human foot traffic. He had done research into what sort of things encouraged customers in bookstores; events and such. The problem was that he didn’t believe himself to be capable of hosting anything of the sort.

On one of Veth’s many visits, Yeza came along. Luc had been pulling out picture books as tall as him and tossing them behind him on the floor. Veth hovered nervously, trying to minimize any possible damage.

This left Caleb alone with Yeza (which he’d yet to stop finding awkward). After all, Caleb had been closer to Yeza’s wife during one of the hardest trials of their life. It felt intrusive in retrospect even though logic told him otherwise.

“You’ve got a good set up for kids here,” said Yeza. “Toys and everything. Although Luc seems to want to play with the shelves more.”

“Yeah, well, kids are the most reliable lovers of books. Lots of adults lose interest as they grow up.”

“I suppose they do. Do you have a reading corner here? You know, where you read a book for all the local kids once a week or so?”

“No. I don’t.”

“We’ve got one at our local children’s library. Sometimes there’s puppets. Veth thinks it’s creepy but Luc loves it. Even if he doesn’t fully understand the story.”

“It is a good idea,” said Caleb. “A very good idea. But I don’t think I have the sort of voice people like listening to. I’ve been told it’s a little, uh, one note.”

Yeza gave a slight inclination of his head to show concession. It was a good point. But it was also a good idea.

Caleb considered it most days, sometimes practicing putting on the persona of an animated narrator. Each practice only proved what he already knew; he did not have it in him to perform. Not even when staring down at the safety of an open book.

So the idea lay dormant, as did business. 

The monotony was beginning to get to him and the whole thing felt suffocating. Then, one day, came another comet and it began to feel a lot like something else entirely.

Slowly.

Ever so slowly.

* * *

He noticed the stranger at once for her bright ocean blue hair and spiraling wheels of wildflowers across her skirt. People that vibrant did not regularly pass through his colourless, rain-stricken town.

She wandered back and forth quite a bit before leaving without buying a single thing.

She did, however, call, “Thank you!” to him on her way out, flashing a wild smile.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, a second too late.

The glass door swung closed behind her and Caleb tried not to cringe internally too much. He turned his attention, instead, back to the shop at large.

Still empty.

It didn’t feel like any other interaction with any other customer.

Then he noticed that something had changed.

He blinked once. Twice. Three times before he figured it out.

The blue-haired woman had been wandering between the Adult Romance section and the Religion shelf swapping book for book until ‘Religion’ was free of any religious text.

It didn’t take too long to correct the disruption and his thoughts didn’t linger on it. He assumed, incorrectly, that it was a simple act of mischief that had run its course.

He got a better look at her the second time around, what with being on watch for more mischief. As casually as he could, he followed her movements with his eyes.

She wandered back and forth again but, save for the act itself, nothing she did prompted further suspicion.

Perhaps she knew she was being watched. 

After a good twenty minutes, she left with a bright-eyed, “Thank you,” and empty hands. 

It was only then that he realised she’d managed to do it again. The ‘Religion’ shelf had been replaced entirely with Adult Romance.

Over the following few weeks, she would come in and wreak subtle havoc on the place.

He never said anything to her about it.

Any natural inclinations towards confrontation had long escaped him. And it gave him something to do with his day. When there were no customers, which was more often than not, he could undo the mess the blue-haired girl had made.

It wasn’t long, however, before she moved on from reshelving to relabelling, redecorating, and refurbishing.

There were now paintings on the wall in bright child-like colours. Paintings for each section. Paintings on the floor. Paintings on the labels themselves.

There were new labels, as well, announcing her personal opinion on several books. Along with new chairs and pillows which she simply dragged in unabashed.

Every time she left she would say thank you and every time Caleb would reply that she was welcome. She never bought anything, he never reprimanded, and most of the changes she made, he kept.

“Hello, Sir,” she said one day, leaning across the counter and kicking her feet up behind her, as though she was swimming in place. “I have a question for you.”

“Of course, Madam,” said Caleb, placing his bookmark carefully before shutting his book and setting it aside. “Now what can I help you with.”

“Um, well, I was just wondering why you never say anything to me.”

“You seemed quite content to browse alone. I apologise if my customer service hasn’t been up to scratch.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do?”

She studied him long and hard before hopping off the counter entirely and announcing, “You’re very serious.”

“And you have a problem with serious people?”

“Serious people are usually the ones with the problems.”

“Ah, so you thought you’d add to mine?”

She studied him for a moment longer before giving him her usual ‘thank you’ and going on her merry way. 

He could not, for the life of him, read her.

The next day, she was back. No paints or pillows to be seen. But Caleb knew better than to believe her intentions were entirely innocent. He was certain that upon closing, he’d find a review of War and Peace, surrounded by doodles of unicorns which simply read, ‘this is a long book.’

To his surprise, however, she did not even venture to the back of the store. She simply perched on a stool, pulled out a sketchbook from her bright pink rucksack, and alternated between staring at him and drawing something.

He served a few customers while she worked, but each time they left, he made sure to get back into the position he’d been in when she’d started. Of course, he couldn’t be certain that she was drawing him, but there was a high chance. Especially given the amount of time she spent squinting at him and holding her thumbs and forefingers up to make a frame around his face.

Just before closing time, she ripped the top page out of the sketch book and tossed it unceremoniously onto the counter. With a wink, she then pulled her rucksack on and vanished into the street.

Caleb followed her with his eyes, ensuring that she was truly gone (not simply waiting in the shadows to watch his reaction to the drawing) before pulling it towards him.

He let out such a sudden, startling laugh that he almost choked on it.

It was his face alright, in painstaking detail – right down to the strands of hair which fell over his forehead. Beyond that, however, she’d clearly been liberal with her artistic license. The chin she’d drawn was his own chin, but around it she’d drawn sparkles. His book was held how he’d held it, but the cover was a man with waist-length blonde hair, holding a half-dressed woman against his hairy chest. The title, too, had been changed. It now read, “On a Bed of Books.”

By far his favourite part, though, was the cartoonish elaboration of his butt. It burst through the back of his trousers with the thick luxurious hair. Almost as though he had the rear end of a gorilla. 

At the bottom she’d signed in cursive, “Jester L,” and finished it off with a smiley face.

He placed the drawing down carefully on the counter so as not to crumple it in any way. After this, he turned to his business licence, which was framed on the wall. With equal delicacy, he removed the copy of his business license before placing Jester L’s artwork inside. He’d find another frame for the license. For now, it was more important to display art. And to keep it safe behind glass.

“Ah,” he said, leaning back to take it in. “Perfect.”

As he locked up that night, he caught himself whistling a tune he’d memorised against his will from the radio. It was upbeat, bubble-gum pop that he would in no way have chosen to listen to and it had been stuck in his head for weeks.

That was the first night he’d whistled it, though.

It was the first night he’d whistled anything in quite some time.

* * *

The next day, Jester L strolled right up to the counter and said, “You know when I first saw you I thought you’d smell bad. Probably because your hair and beard make you look kind of like someone who thinks deodorant is a scam.”

Caleb had no idea what to do with that confession.

His beard came and went. Sometimes he wanted to hide his face and other times he wanted to feel the wind hit his skin. It was true that he kept his hair no shorter than his jawline. It was the only way to make sure he didn’t see a soldier staring back at him from the mirror during his hazy morning routine.

He kept himself clean, though. He had pride enough for that level of care.

“Well,” he said. “Thank you for the picture.”

She followed the point of his finger to the drawing on the wall.

“You framed it?” she cried, mouth wide and wild in delight.

“Yeah, it’s very good.”

For the first time since he’d first seen her, he saw Jester at a loss for what to do.

“Well, I’m glad you liked it. I will draw you lots more,” she said finally. “I have to go see somebody but I wanted to drop in first.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know. Just to say ‘hi,’ I guess.”

“Oh,” said Caleb. “Erm, hello?”

“Hello!” she replied brightly. “See you tomorrow!”

He did, in fact, see her the following day. This time, she had a picture frame under her arm. It appeared to be hand-painted with bright cacophonous patches.

She held it out for him and said, “For the thing that used to be in your frame. I remember there was something else in it.”

“Oh, wow. Did you paint this yourself?”

“Of course.”

“I like the ‘more is more’ approach you’ve taken.”

“More is always more,” she said firmly.

Just then, Frumpkin leapt onto the counter and let out a loud meow.

“Oh, my goodness!” cried Jester. “Who is this little ball of fluff?”

Frumpkin was not a particularly fluffy cat, but Caleb appreciated her enthusiasm as she scratched behind his ears.

“This is my cat. His name is Frumpkin.”

“Oh! I love it! Can I call him Lumpy?”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because he’s the lumpiest little cat in the world.”

“I don’t know that that’s true.”

Jester giggled as Frumpkin leaned into the scratches. Then, as a sudden surprise to both Caleb and Frumpkin (causing the latter to dart out of sight in irritation), Jester gasped.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I just remembered that I forgot to ask you what your name is!”

“I’m Caleb. Caleb Widogast. And you are Jester, yeah? Or is that just your art pseudonym?”

“No it’s my regular name. I use it for everything.”

“I use Caleb for everything too.”

“Well, Caleb, I’ve been trying to figure you out.”

“You’ve been studying me, yeah?”

“I’m a really good detective. And you’re a very good mystery,” she said, with narrowed eyes, as though sizing him up for the first time. “Like how you stand like a soldier but you don’t have any war books.”

“Both true,” he said, an idea forming in his head. “So, you are a detective?”

“I mean… not technically.”

“But in your heart, yeah?”

“Exactly. See, you do get it. But, you know, I’m not just a detective.”

“No?”

“I’m also an artist.”

“I know that much,” he said, nodding to the picture she’d drawn him. “Do you make much money from it?”

“Well… not exactly,” she said, brow a little furrowed. “But I’m probably going to get rich someday. I’m, like, super talented.”

“Until then, would you be interested in a position? Part-time? I wouldn’t want to take away from your myriad of pursuits.”

“Caleb,” she sang out. “Are you flirting with me?”

“What? No.”

“Then what positions were you talking about?”

Her apple cheeks ripened with the spreading of her grin. Ah, he thought, she was teasing. Of course.

“I was wondering,” he continued, blushing furiously. “If you wanted to host a reading corner for the children.”

Pure mischief softened into something even sweeter on her face.

“Oh, Caleb!” she cried, delighted“I would love to! And then maybe we could host a reading corner for adults,” she added with a raise of her eyebrows.

“Where you perform smut, yeah?”

Jester let out a wicked laugh.

With a shrug he said, “Why don’t we see how it goes?”

* * *

Her wardrobe was a rainbow of patterned skirts, bright bows, and intricately sewn blouses contrasted at times with spiked jewellery and heavy black books. He never saw her in the same outfit twice and could never predict exactly what sort of look she would go for from day to day. All the while, Caleb wore the same three cardigans in rotation.

Only a handful of children showed up to the first reading. By the second reading, the group had tripled in size.

Frumpkin alone hid from the commotion. Everyone else was like a moth dancing around a crackling blue flame.

She was truly something to behold, book on her knee and wonder in her eyes. There was no line between the world and the story she told. There was no line between her own excitement and the children’s rapt attention.

“And though the prince told her not to worry, that the dragon had been slain… the princess knew it wasn’t over.”

Caleb heard one child gasp. Jester slammed the book closed and the other children protested.

“I’m sorry guys,” she said. “It’s gonna have to stay a mystery until next week. Tell your parents you’ve gotta come back, okay? And don’t be scared to buy a book from Caleb. I know his beard makes him look kind of stinky but trust me he smells really nice.”

Caleb wasn’t certain whether to be offended at the insult or bashful from the compliment.

What he was certain he would do was call Veth that evening and tell her, as he’d done every week since Jester had begun her readings, just how wonderful the reading corner was going.

“I’ll have to bring Luc soon,” she said. “He’s a bit young, but I want to see this famous ‘Jester’ in action.”

It took a good few weeks for Veth to be able to arrange a visit, but when it was finally possible, Jester had gotten herself into a fit of excitement.

“Oh, Caleb, I can’t wait to meet your best friend and for her to be my best friend as well!”

“Just be wary, Veth is a little awkward around new people.”

“Like you?”

“Exactly.”

But there was no awkwardness when Jester and Veth met one another.

“I love your hair,” said Veth.

“Really? I love yours!” cried Jester.

“My therapist says dying my hair might help with my body dysmorphia.”

“You totally should! Do you have a colour in mind?”

“I thought maybe… maybe green?”

“Oh my God! Yes!” she exclaimed, smacking her hands together in an almost ear-splitting clap. “It would suit you so much.”

Their instant friendship lit a fire in Caleb’s heart. Jester was important. To the business. She was important to the business and Veth’s opinion, as the one who’d financed the whole thing, was even more important.

After closing, Veth pulled Caleb to one side and said, “Caleb, I like this girl. I like her a lot.”

“Yeah, she’s something isn’t she?”

Veth stared at him with a great meaning he could not quite decipher.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing!”

“I mean, it’s clearly something. You’ve got this look in your eye like you’re going to buy me another bookshop.”

“I was just thinking that she might make a wonderful partner.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

“You have?”

“Of course! Imagine what this shop could become with her contributions.”

“Actually I meant more of a life partner than a business partner.”

Caleb was dumbfounded. It wasn’t that Jester was someone he couldn’t consider binding his entire life to, it was more that there was no universe where he had anything to offer her in return.

It was a ridiculous notion and one he refused to entertain.

Veth might have thought the world of him, with the blindness of any young mother, but that was all it was: blindness.

“It was just a thought!” she cried, seeing the folds in his forehead. “You know I just want you to be happy.”

“I know.”

“And it does seem like she makes you happy.”

“Lots of things make me happy, Veth, it doesn’t mean I should marry them.”

“It was just a thought!”

And that thought was sent via text to Caleb in varying levels of subtly in the following weeks. He was glad to learn, however, that Jester and Veth shared very different thoughts with one another.

“Have you seen?” asked Jester one afternoon.

“I don’t know, what is it I’m supposed to have seen?”

“Veth dyed her hair!” cried Jester, shoving her phone under Caleb’s nose.

On her screen was a picture of Veth, uneven grin and green curls cascading around her round face. 

“Oh, wow. She looks very good,” he said.

“Right?” said Jester.

“You know, I’ve only ever seen your hair blue. Have you ever had it other colours?”

“No!” she cried, affronted. “I was born with blue hair, you know.”

“Oh, really?”

“Totally. I was blessed by a fairy godmother when I was still in my mom’s belly so I came out looking this cool.”

“Oh, well I was cursed by a witch when I was a baby.”

“What did you do?”

“She gave me a predisposition to mental illness and difficulty overcoming trauma.”

“Oh, man that really sucks. We’ve gotta find that witch and break that curse.”

He watched her smile down at her phone and tap out what he was certain, based on his own experience of conversation with the woman, a mostly emoji filled message.

Caleb hadn’t been lying to Veth when he’d said he wanted her to be his business partner. It felt like too much too soon, though.

“You know,” he said. “I wanted to ask if you’d be available to do another reading corner each week. The sessions are getting a little crowded so it might be worth splitting them into smaller groups. If we can. If you can as well, I mean.”

“Caleb, of course I will. I love reading to the children!” she cried, then quietly, as though it was a secret, said, “I think I love this shop as well.”

“You’ve done a lot of good for it. I mean, you can help out more if you like. You already cover the till sometimes. And you’ve made the place look like something from a storybook. I’d love to hear any more of your suggestions.”

Jester tapped the edge of her phone against her chin as though deep in thought.

“You should get The Ruby of the Sea,” she said eventually.

“Excuse me?”

“The book.”

“Well, I can take requests. Would you like me to order it in for you?”

“No I have a first edition already.”

“You just recommend it, yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s the best book ever written.”

Caleb pulled the keyboard of his ancient computer towards him so that he could search the stocks of his suppliers for the book.

“Who’s it by?” he asked, hovering over the search bar.

“My mom,” said Jester proudly.

“Your mother is a writer?”

“My mom is good at most things.”

“That’s where you inherit your talents?”

“Well, she’s not as good an artist as me, but she’s good at so many other things it really doesn’t matter.”

“Has she written many books?”

“Just one so far. But it’s so good, I don’t know that she needs to write any more.”

“What’s it about - this masterpiece book?”

“Her life and stuff.”

“Her name is Marion Lavorre?” he asked, finding the one autobiography in the system which contained both the words “ruby” and “sea.”

“Yeah!”

Caleb clicked the link.

‘The Ruby of the Sea: Behind the Scenes with Burlesque’s Biggest Star.’

“Oh, wow!” he said. “She’s a pretty big deal, yeah?”

Jester beamed with pride.

“Maybe she could sign a copy for us,” he said.

Jester’s smile faltered. Just a little. Blink and you’d have missed it. But Caleb had not blinked and he had not missed it.

Fixing her grin, she said, “Well, she’s pretty busy at the moment. I don’t know when she’d have the time, but maybe next time I see her, I can ask her.”

“No rush. It was just a thought.”

Jester nodded and Caleb felt a sinking, unidentifiable guilt in the pit of his stomach.

“I have other ideas,” said Jester, quickly breaking the uncomfortable silence. “We need to do a special reading corner for Christmas. Oh! And we have to do secret santa.”

“We are the only two employees.”

“Well let’s hope we get each other then ‘cause I don’t know that I’ll be able to keep my gift a secret from myself.”

* * *

Jester insisted on writing their names on tiny bits of paper, popping them in a hat from lost and found, and drawing blindly.

“Okay, now you pick first,” she said, thrusting the hat towards him.

He closed his eyes and fumbled around until his fingers grazed one of the two pieces of paper. When he unfolded his choice, he saw it had the name “Jester” written across it, surrounded with cartoon dogs.

“You good?” she asked.

“Good.”

“My turn then,” she said, wriggling her eyebrows.

Although there was only one piece of paper left in the hat, Jester made an elaborate show of picking it, eyes squeezed tightly shut and hand searching with great flourish.

As her eyes darted across the page, she grinned savagely.

“Oh, dear,” he said. “I do not like that look.”

Christmas proved to fuel Jester with a level of energy previously unknown to mankind.

“Caleb, I have the best idea for the Christmas Reading Corner,” she announced just a day after she’d proposed the idea.

“Yeah? Let’s hear it.”

“Well, there’s one problem I have to figure out first.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I think I’m going to need someone to help me read.”

“You can bring someone in if you like.”

“Oh.”

“You wouldn’t like that?”

With a pout, she said, “I was trying to ask you to read with me.”

“Me? I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have the best reading voice. It’s very one note.”

“Please!”

“I don’t mind reading in front of people, Jester. I just don’t think the children will enjoy it much.”

“Okay,” said Jester, with a familiar pitch.

“Jester, I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“You’re planning something.”

She narrowed her eyes and said, “You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do.”

With unbelievable speed, Jester stuck her tongue out before grabbing her rucksack and running out of the store.

Yeah, he thought, she was definitely planning something.

Caleb had expected Jester to insist on helping put up the Christmas decorations, but she said that the ‘costumes’ needed to be picked up. He didn’t love the sound of that, but he made do with the solitude and hummed along to the radio as he hung streamers of red and silver along the shelves.

Jester arrived just in time to prepare for the Christmas Reading Corner. Whatever someone might say about the degree of seriousness with which she took her job, with the dick doodles and such, no one could fault her dedication.

“Oh, wow! This looks so cool!” she cried, spinning around as though it might give her a better view of the place.

He’d managed to find the time to finish trimming the tree as well as spraying the windows with white paint to mimic snow. Jester would have done something far more creative, but if he couldn’t have her unique hand in assistance he was glad to have her approval.

“So,” she said, suddenly all business. “Are you ready to swap presents?”

Caleb had had his gift for Jester hidden in the locked drawer beneath the till for several weeks by that point. Though he had taken it out from time to time in moments of self-doubt, he hadn’t been able to think of anything more suitable.

In that moment, he felt that this had been a mistake.

He should have thought harder, asked Veth for advice. But he’d been too afraid of the things she’d take from the question. Worse still, was her imagined reply.

He’d have asked, “Hey, Veth, what should I buy Jester for Christmas?”

To which Veth would have said, “An engagement ring.”

Suppressing all of these thoughts, Caleb handed the small package over to Jester whose first instinct was to shake it by her ear.

“Is it jewellery? It sounds like jewellery!” she cried, tearing through the wrapping paper.

“Don’t get too excited. It’s nothing fancy.”

“Don’t be silly, Caleb. I know you’re poor – oh my God!”

Caleb winced. He shouldn’t have chosen jewellery. It was gutsy. It was predestined to fail. And she was right, he was poor. But, he’d pushed that aside and convinced himself she wouldn’t mind. After all, he’d seen her wear her Reading Corner costume jewellery casually around the shop. Perhaps that was different, though. Perhaps there was something trendy about wearing chunky plastic pearls whereas there was nothing trendy about a cheap gold necklace.

“Caleb,” she breathed. “This is so beautiful.”

She’d pulled out the necklace and, in what seemed to be awe, had let the box fall to the floor.

“It’s not gold karat or anything,” he said, uncomfortable, for some reason, with how much she liked the thing.

On the thin chain hung a pendant in the shape of an open book, roughly the size of a matchbox.

“Once upon a time,” she said, reading the inscription. “Wait, does it move?”

“Yeah. Just the one page though.”

Jester turned the thick golden sheet.

“And they lived happily ever after,” she read aloud. “Caleb, this is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s not.”

“Shut up, yes it is. And now I don’t want to give you your present.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s gonna look so stupid after this.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Jester looked up at him under heavy, sceptic brows, but offered her package out anyway.

“Thank you,” he said, smiling in spite of himself.

It was flat and square, wrapped in a metallic green and topped with a big red bow.

“I almost don’t want to ruin the wrapping.”

“Tear it apart!” shouted Jester. “Rip it to pieces!”

With great care, Caleb peeled back the tape. It took him a few minutes to reveal the gift; a calendar featuring cats wearing different costumes for each month.

“Oh, wow. Thank you,” he said.

But Jester did not respond. He looked up and saw she was still inspecting the necklace in her hand.

“Caleb,” she said slowly. “Will you help me put it on?”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

He tripped over his feet a little as he made his way over to her. She giggled, but didn’t mock his lack of coordination.

It was a wonder how something as simple as a complete mental breakdown could destroy years of military training. What had once been muscle had fallen away along with half his weight and, it seemed, his ability to walk in a straight line.

He tried to be more careful as he picked the necklace from her hand, not to drop it to the floor. Slowly, he placed it around her neck while she scooped her hair up and out of the way.

“Thank you for my calendar,” he breathed.

“It’s very stupid.”

“Well, I like it a lot. It’ll be nice to have something to write my plans on without fear of running into one of your dick butts.”

“Don’t be so sure. There might be one or two hidden about. If you look really close.”

“I look forward to finding them,” he said. “Ah. There we go. Done.”

Jester turned to face him, without moving any further away.

A breath away, she asked, “How does it look?”

“It looks good. It looks very good.”

She was too close. She was too much.

“I’ll find a pin for the calendar,” he said, stepping back.

“Okay,” said Jester. “Okay. I’ll just get ready.”

* * *

Caleb knew he wasn’t going to get away with not doing a reading. He was far too familiar with Jester’s skills of persuasion and endless reserve of determination.

“Now, kids,” she said, once they were all sat and ready. “I asked Caleb if he wanted to help me read today, but he’s a little shy.”

The children all cooed and awed as though Jester were speaking of a sneezing panda not a thirty-three year old war vet with social anxiety.

“But he just needs to know how cool and supportive you guys are, okay?” she said. “So, maybe if we all clap super loudly he’ll know not to be scared. Are you ready?”

The children all chorused, “Yeeees Jesteeeeeeer.”

Caleb was already on his way over before the applause began. They clapped loudly for him anyway and Jester jumped up from her stool to meet him halfway.

He sighed deeply before asking, “So who am I playing? Scrooge? The Grinch?”

“The Nutcracker,” she said, shoving a copy of the book into his arms.

“You want me to be the prince character?”

“Unless you really want to be Clara, but that’s who I always played when I read it with my mom.”

“What about the other parts? Who is the Mouse King?”

“You’ll see.”

“You guys!” cried Jester, skipping over to the children. “We have our nutcracker!”

They cheered and Caleb gave them an awkward smile and an even more awkward wave.

“Here you go!” she said.

And she handed Caleb a felt nutcracker hat that he gladly accepted.

Standing beside Jester while she performed was like standing outside in a thunder storm while wearing steel-toed boots. It was thrilling, certainly, but it was terrifying too. He had hoped her enthusiasm would be more contagious, but it only served to illuminate his inadequacy.

He was fumbling over his words, not terribly thrilled to be leading an army even in pretend, when Jester announced the arrival of the Mouse King.

From behind the curtain, Veth appeared, baring her teeth as though they were tiny fangs. One of the kids let out a cry of surprise but the rest fell into giggles.

By the end of the reading, Caleb hadn’t exactly found his stride, but he’d lost a fraction of his reservations. It helped that Veth had fully committed to her role, disarming both him and the children in the most delightful way.

Once all had been settled and Jester was helping the kids pick out books to buy, Veth pulled Caleb behind the curtain and whispered, “Marry her.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Marry her.”

“Do either of us get a choice in the matter?”

“Of course you do! Choose to marry her.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Before Veth could respond, Luc had grabbed a fistful of curtain and revealed them to the world.

“You found me!” cried Veth joyfully, swooping down to prevent Luc from further wrapping the curtain around his body like a tortilla wrap.

He spent the remaining opening hours avoiding being cornered by Veth, for fear of another confrontation. He also found himself avoiding Jester too, for fear of Veth’s burning stare whenever the two interacted.

He didn’t want her to further misinterpret the friendship he’d found with Jester as anything sordid on his part. For this reason, it was long past closing before he felt comfortable telling Jester the good news.

“Come here,” he cried out, beckoning Jester over to him. “I want to show you something.”

“Are you trying to get me under the mistletoe, Caleb?” she asked coyly.

Caleb tried not to blush too hard as he said, “I didn’t put up any mistletoe.”

“Well someone did.”

Caleb glanced up and saw nothing out of the ordinary.

“Ha!” cried Jester. “I totally made you look.”

Caleb had not forgotten the young man he had once been and he still felt those old impulses creep up his neck every now and then, breathing heavily into his ear.

The ghost of his youth told him to close all distance between him and Jester, mistletoe or not.

Fortunately, he had grown accustomed to shutting down whispers. He gave her a weak smile before circling back around the counter. If he were another man he’d have called Veth to tell her she was right about Jester. But he was still Caleb and she was still Jester and it was still an impossibility.

“What did you want to show me?” she prompted.

“Oh,” he said, fumbling, having forgotten himself. “Oh, I wanted to show you our takings for today.”

“We did good?”

“We did amazing thanks to you.”

Her whole face lit up like a Christmas tree.

* * *

As December trudged through a crisp January and into a bone-chilling February, Jester grew quieter and more detached. She still doodled dicks in his work diary, but it always seemed to be more a matter of habit than joy.

Her reading corner was as bright as ever, but once the show was over, the mask slipped.

A part of him believed firmly that it was not his place to ask, but a far greater sum of his parts wanted to do all he could to look after her.

“Jester, I don’t want to pry, but I’m a little concerned,” he said during one particularly quiet day.

“About what?”

“About you.”

“Why? Is there something wrong with me?”

“I’m not sure. But I worry there might be.”

“Caleb, you don’t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself pretty well.”

“But, why are you taking care of yourself? Where is your mother?”

“You know I’m a grownup, yeah?”

“I know, but you two seem close. From all you say. And I’m quite a bit older than you and my parents cannot be stopped from trying to take care of me. I just don’t want you to feel alone, I suppose.”

“Are you saying you’re there for me?”

“Of course.”

She giggled with all the mischief of a poltergeist.

“You like me,” she sang.

His heart stopped.

But then she finished seamlessly with “We’re friends.”

“Is that news?” he asked, trying not to betray the unevenness of his breathing. “Were we not friends before?”

“You can never be too sure.”

“Well, you can be sure that I do like you and I would like even more to consider you my friend.”

Jester’s grin softened into something close to unguarded. Caleb thought it was perhaps the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

* * *

As spring brought flowers and heavy rain, so too did it bring a lift in Jester’s spirits. Her mind was once again buzzing with ideas and she decided to offer face painting to any customers over the Easter weekend.

Caleb looked at the paints thoughtfully for a while before he felt confident enough to ask, “Can you make me a cat?”

“Of course! What colour?”

“Orange? Like Frumpkin?”

“Well, that’ll be tough because I never see him. Frumpkin hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“He always hides under the shelves when I come in.”

“You’re just a little overwhelming.”

Jester blew a raspberry and ordered Caleb to close his eyes while she dabbed his face with a base of white paint.

“It’s nice to see you in high spirits again.”

“Because you were worried about me?” she asked with a teasing tone.

Without missing a beat, Caleb replied, “Of course.”

Voice trembling, Jester said, “My Mom’s sick.”

“Ah,” he said, without thinking, without anything better to add.

He had been expecting that to be the case but he hadn’t been prepared to react to it then and there. He would have kicked himself if he’d had the flexibility.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. She’s going to be okay. I know she will because she’s the strongest person in the whole world.”

He felt Jester continue to paint his face, as though the conversation was about anything other than her sick mother.

“I can believe that,” said Caleb. “She raised you after all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, no! I don’t mean like that I meant that for you to be so strong yourself you must have had a hell of a role model.”

“The best.”

“Sorry. I’m not too good with these sorts of things. I usually end up with my foot in my mouth. But I do want you to know you can come to me. If you want to. I’ll stay quiet; just listen.”

“Thank you, Caleb. You can open your eyes now.”

Fat tears trembled in the corners of her eyes, but she smiled at his offer nonetheless. He wished, in that moment, more than any moment that had come before, that he could read her.

“You know, that’s why I used to come here every day,” she said. “Her hospital is so close and when it wasn’t visiting hours, I needed to find something to distract myself with.”

“Well, I’m glad you distracted yourself with me.”

“Me too. All done!”

With great pride, Jester she held up the small glitter-covered hand mirror she’d brought along.

Caleb turned his face every which way to see every inch of her work.

“You know, I was half sure you’d draw a dick on my head or something,” he said.

“Don’t be stupid, Caleb! Kids are coming.”

He proudly wore his cat-face all day. Even past the hour Jester usually left at. As Caleb finished tidying the shelves and returned to the counter, however, he found that Jester had yet to go home. Instead, she was pouring through his planner.

“I don’t know that there’s any more room for dicks in there,” he said.

“I’m not drawing,” she replied. “I’m reading.”

“My planner?”

“You have all these ideas written down and some of them are really good. We have to do them. Like, this one about fixing your broken clothes to save money? That’s really cool.”

“I like the idea a lot, but I’ve come to face the reality that I’m not suited to lead these kinds of things.”

“Why not? You don’t have to do cool voices or anything. It’s just telling people how to sew things up. Besides, I thought you did pretty well as the nutcracker.”

“A generous review. But you might have a point with the teaching. I think I could be okay until we find a regular teacher,” he said. “Unless you want to do it?”

“Oh, I’m pretty shitty at that kind of stuff. I guess growing up my mom always just bought me new things when the old things broke. Or if it was something I really liked she’d get a tailor in.”

“Sounds nice.”

“I guess so. I’ve never thought about it before. Well, not before I read your list.”

“We all have different backgrounds.”

“I suppose. Maybe I could come to the class. Just in case I tear something I really like.”

“A good idea. You’re always crawling around or climbing on things. It’s only so long before you get a hole in one of your pretty dresses.”

“I have a hole in this one actually,” she said, scrambling around with her skirts until she found the rip in question. “I was trying to get on top of the horror section earlier.”

“Why?”

“To give a three dimensional horror experience.”

“Of course,” he laughed.

* * *

It was not the last time he found Jester behind the desk; a month or so later he stumbled upon her sitting at his snail-slow computer, biting her lip, and running her free hand through her blue hair.

“Is something wrong?”

“Oh,” she sniffed. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. What’s up?”

“I can’t find anywhere to sleep tonight. My mom’s been scheduled for surgery super early tomorrow morning and I want to be at the hospital just in case and the buses don’t go that early and -”

“Jester, it’s okay, you can just stay with me.”

“Wait. Really?” she sniffed.

“I did say I was here for you, didn’t I?”

“But that’s a lot to ask for.”

“You don’t have to ask, Jester. You’re more than welcome to stay at mine whenever you want.”

She shimmied her eyebrows at him with a dastardly grin, almost as though her eyes were dry of tears.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he said quickly.

“Oh really, Caleb? Then how did you mean it?”

“I can’t look at you right now.”

“Why not? You embarrassed after inviting me up to your place?”

“Stop it!” he cried, but he was laughing through the burning blush.

“Oh, you’re so cute when you’re awkward.”

“Then I must always be cute, yeah?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

And oh did the blush burn.

* * *

The jokes continued up until she actually crossed the threshold of his apartment. With the closed door behind them and the world shut away, an unfamiliar awkwardness cropped up between them.

“You can make yourself comfortable in my room,” he said. “I changed the sheets on my lunch break. I just need to grab some stuff from the wardrobe so I can set myself up out here.”

“Oh, no, I don’t want to steal your bed.”

“You are welcome to it. I’d be a great disappointment to my parents if I forced my guest to stay on the couch.”

“It’s fine, Caleb. I don’t know that I’ll get much sleep tonight anyway,” she said, scratching at the back of her beck absent-mindedly.

She looked troubled. Of course she did. But that didn’t mean Caleb had to simply accept it.

“You know what I do when I feel sad or anxious?” he said.

“Read a book?”

“I read books whatever my mood is. Although, I will admit I’m more often sad or anxious than anything else.”

“Caleb,” said Jester with sickly sweet pity.

Caleb didn’t want it. He rarely, if ever, wanted pity, but that night it felt worse. That night was about comforting Jester.

“Come on, Jester. We are here to cheer you up. Now, grab any blanket you can find, we’re going to make a fort.”

She stood up straight to attention and asked, “Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay!” she cried, scrambling towards the bedroom a heart stopping smile.

Unsurprisingly, it seemed that Jester had prior experience with furniture and blanket based construction. But that didn’t mean that Caleb couldn’t impress her with his own prowess.

“You really have done this before,” she said, watching as he hung up fairy lights within the fort.

“Absolutely.”

Once all was done and a pint of ice cream had been retrieved from the freezer, Caleb and Jester crawled into their creation.

“You want to watch a movie?” he asked. “Distract you a bit?”

“That might be good,” she said, voice small.

Caleb looked at her and noticed she was blinking back tears again.

Something inside him steeled and, without reservation, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her towards him. It had been intended as a bracing, comforting, one-armed thing, but from the first touch of his hand on her shoulder, Jester turned fully into his arms and began to sob on his chest.

“Oh, come here,” he heard himself say in a parody of his mother. “It’s okay.”

“Sorry I’m not all that fun tonight.”

Caleb closed his eyes and let out a long sigh before finding the right words.

“You are a bright, beautiful, wondrous being, Jester,” he said, squeezing her just a little tighter. “But, you know, you are also a human. It’s okay to have your moments. Most of us don’t handle them with as much maturity as you do.”

Jester broke free, wiping her eyes with a chuckle.

“You think I’m mature?” she asked.

“In the ways that count, yeah. Whereas I’m an old man with the emotional maturity of a toddler.”

“Caleb, you need to stop calling yourself old okay? You’re like thirty.”

At that moment, a small orange furball slunk into the fort.

Jester gasped silently, but remained mostly still. Frumpkin inspected her cautiously before deciding it was safe to climb onto her lap.

“Oh, my god,” she mouthed at Caleb.

He gave a thumbs up which he inwardly kicked himself for while he flipped through Netflix on the TV.

Halfway through the second action movie (both Jester’s requests), he realised both her and the cat were snoring.

Then, and only then, did Caleb settle into the pillows and allow himself to drift off to sleep.

* * *

When the alarm on his phone went off, Jester’s place in the fort was vacant. Frumpkin had taken up residence on Caleb’s chest, tail twitching in his face. Caleb didn’t know what time Jester had left, but he was sorry to not have sent her away with breakfast and well wishes.

He could not concentrate all day. Neither his head nor heart were there in the store, quite possibly losing him a few potential regular customers. He didn’t really care. How could he? He watched the clock tick and checked his phone regularly just in case. Not that he was under the impression he’d be her first port of call for news either good or bad. But if she did need him, he wanted to be available without delay.

Comfort came in the form of a text that afternoon.

“All great with Mom,” it read. “I’ll be in tomorrow.”

“Don’t be silly,” he replied. “Spend time with your mom. The store will be fine.”

A week passed before she returned, looking brighter than she had in months. Perhaps the brightest he’d ever seen her.

It was funny, he thought, how much the sight of her sent a blossoming warmth from his heart to his head.

“Hello,” he greeted.

“Caleb!” she cried, running towards him and practically leaping into his arms for a hug.

It was only then that he realised the immensity with which he’d missed her. After a moment to adjust, Caleb patted her back in return.

With a giggle, Jester pulled back and said, “Oh, Caleb, you’re so awkward.”

“Yeah, that is accurate. How is your mother?”

“She’s good. Still recovering, but she’s good.”

“I’m glad because there is something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. And I don’t want you to feel pressured to answer right away because, you know, it’s a big decision.”

Her face lit up and that comforted him a little, that she knew it was coming.

“I was going to ask you months ago but with your mom and all, I didn’t want to put anything else on your plate. But, now that she’s in the clear, I wanted to ask you to officially become my business partner,” he said proudly.

The smile on her face stiffened under the sudden weight of disappointment.

“You can say no,” he added hastily. “I won’t be upset.”

But the disappointment did not fade from her face. Which begged the question of what exactly she had been expecting.

“You don’t want to be my partner?” he asked.

She shook her head and that worried him. If she didn’t have the heart to babble then she must have been deeply hurt. He fumbled around internally for some explanation.

“I’m sorry, Jester. I know it’s a big thing to ask and you have your mother to think of.”

“No, Caleb, no! It’s such a sweet offer I just wasn’t expecting it. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Her bright smile soothed him somewhat. But there was still something behind it that he couldn’t quite decipher.

“You’re disappointed,” he said.

It wasn’t a question.

“No! Why would you think that?”

“It’s all over your face.”

“No it’s not! It can’t be because I’m not disappointed.”

“Okay.”

“And I would love to be your business partner.”

“You would?”

“Of course. I mean, it’s not like I could ever leave you’d be completely lost without me.”

“You’re right,” he said softly. “I would be.”

“I just thought maybe you were going to ask me something else. But it doesn’t matter.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s totally fine.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

And he didn’t. He had no idea what she wanted from him all that he knew was that, whatever it was, he wanted to give it to her.

In any case, Jester seemed to be done with the conversation.

He shouldn’t have pushed her, he thought. He shouldn’t have offered it so suddenly. There must have been better ways to word the offer.

* * *

She didn’t seem herself for days after the conversation and he’d never before resented his own social ineptitude so much.

Without any clue how to solve the problem, he resorted to talking about it.

“I know you said yes to being my business partner, but you don’t have to stick with that decision. You should take some time to think long and hard about it,” he said, immediately regretting his choice of words.

Jester, however, did not seize upon the innuendo.

“What?” he asked. “No joke about my dick?”

“I can be serious, you know.”

“I know you can, but usually you’re making dick jokes and drawing on my walls.”

“I guess I’m just not in the mood,” she said, absent-mindedly.

“Jester, I am sorry if I did something to upset you.”

“Caleb, I’m not upset with you. I just don’t always feel like being silly.”

“That’s fine.”

She did not seem convinced, but Caleb was wary of pressing her any further.

A few days later, she approached with a familiar book in her hands.

“Oh, I found your planner under one of the shelves,” she said, handing it over.

Caleb met her eye as he took it. There was a familiar glint.

He tried to suppress his smile, but his excitement won out and the moment the book was his once more, he was riffling through for her doodles.

Nothing. His heart sank.

“Look at the back,” she whispered, before setting off.

Caleb flipped the book over to read the back cover.

Jester had painted a comically detailed penis in bright blue along with a cartoonish picture of a unicorn in the bottom right.

He’d have to keep it hidden from customers for professionalism, but he was glad to see it. Silly as it was.

The next day, her mood had not dampened.

“I have a present for you,” she announced with glee.

“You give me far too many presents. I’ll get spoilt.”

“Just let me give it to you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Close your eyes.”

He frowned at her sceptically.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because it’s a surprise. Stop being difficult.”

“I just don’t trust you won’t put something weird in my hand.”

“Caleb!”

“Fine.”

He let his eyes fluttered closed and resisted the urge to peek beneath his lashes. A familiar weight and shape landed in his open hands.

“A book?” he asked, before he’d even properly looked. “Your mother’s book!”

“Yeah!”

“She’s feeling much better then, yeah?”

“Much better. She can come home really soon.”

“That’s wonderful.”

Jester grinned at him as he inspected not only the signature on the front page, but flipped through the book to read sections at a time.

“Sorry,” he said. “I get caught up in reading sometimes. But I shouldn’t play around with it too much if we’re going to sell it.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s yours to keep.”

“Really?”

“Well… if you wanted to sell it, I suppose you could.”

Caleb felt his grip tighten on the book.

“I think I want to keep it,” he said.

“Good,” she said. “And listen, I’m sorry about before, Caleb. I really wasn’t upset with you.”

“No?”

“No. I was just surprised, I think. And I know I’m super good at my job here, but being your business partner is a big deal.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“No. I think I want to be. I spoke to my Mom about it.”

“What did she say?”

“She said I should do whatever I think is best for myself.”

“A wise woman.”

Jester looked around the shop, at Caleb’s shelving, at her murals, and the rug she’d brought in with an embroidered fairy tale ending.

“I think maybe I was also afraid to make such a big decision all by myself,” she said, before finally looking at Caleb and saying, “But I think it’s a good decision. To stay here. For now.”

Or forever, he thought. Not that he’d ever say it. Not that he’d even be able to stomach the idea of seeing her every single day and never being able to say any of it. Not ‘forever,’ not ‘I need you,’ and certainly not, ‘I’m in love with you.’

* * *

The second letter Caleb ever received from Veth Brenatto was much thinner than the first, spanning just one page.

The contents, however, felt just as heavy. Not the words she had written so much as what sat between them in implication.

“Happy Anniversary,” it read. “Jester told me it’s been a year since she started working at the Burnt Biblios. I thought it called for a celebration. Put on your one nice suit and go down to the shop at eight p.m.”

It was a Sunday. Not only did that mean the letter must have been hand-delivered, but the shop had been closed all day. Veth had a spare key for emergencies only. This elaborate plan was, apparently, an emergency in Veth’s eyes.

“Shit,” he grumbled.

He assumed Jester had received a similar invitation, with a similar dress code. As much as it felt ridiculous to put on his nicest clothes to go down to his own shop, he knew he’d feel more ridiculous showing up in a tatty old cardigan while Jester wore a ball gown.

So he decided to make himself look nice. And he decided it was a good day to shave.

Which, he repeated to himself over and over, had nothing to do with how often Jester complimented his chin. Nothing whatsoever.

He left his apartment at fifteen minutes to eight, which got him to the store for fourteen minutes to eight.

It might have been better to pace around upstairs a little longer, but at least this way he could remove anything too obviously romantic that Veth had planted.

Thankfully, she’d behaved herself. Nothing was heart-shaped and there were no condoms hidden in any of the snacks. Satisfied, he stuffed a handful of tortilla chips into his mouth, just as Jester walked through the door.

She hadn’t put on a ball gown, so to speak. It was more of a party dress. The skirt went out far, but it cut off at her knees. As she walked over to him, he caught a glimpse of the vibrant pink petticoat beneath.

“Caleb!” she cried.

He raised a hand in greeting and tried to swallow quickly without choking at the same time.

“You look so handsome,” she said, stalking around him as though assessing her prey. “I knew you’d clean up well.”

Finally free to speak, he said, “Shall we drink?”

He went for the glasses by the numerous bottles of champagne and realised, too late, that Veth had placed a strawberry in each.

“Is it just the two of us?” she asked as Caleb popped a bottle and began to pour.

“I think so. Not much of a party, I know.”

“Two people is still a party, man!” she cried. “Technically anything is a party if you’re having a good time. So let’s have a good time, yeah?”

Jester went to hook up her phone to the shop’s speakers as Caleb downed his champagne. After a glass or two, he did find himself dancing. But at a distance from her.

“You don’t want to dance with me?” she called to him.

He didn’t have it in him to reply in any way so he busied himself with opening another bottle.

“Fine,” said Jester loftily. “If you won’t dance then follow me. I finished something last night and I want to show you.”

Refilled glasses in hand, they wandered through to the back of the shop. To Jester’s corner. Caleb hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary when entering the shop earlier and he realised why when they arrived.

“Okay,” she said, beginning to pop the curtain rail out of its position in the archway, “So I turned the curtain around to make sure you didn’t see it before it was finished.”

Effortlessly, it pulled free.

When she spun the curtain around, Caleb got an eyeful of colour. On the bland beige she’d birthed a whole magical world. With dragons and fairies, princes and princesses. A golden castle sat upon a pink-washed cliff while a group of mermaids lounged on the rocks below. And that was just what he caught on the first glance.

He stepped closer to inspect.

There were so many things to see, he knew it’d take him weeks of staring before he found the hidden dick.

“Jester, this is amazing,” he said.

“Yeah? You like it? It took a really long time. Plus, fabric paint is hard to use.”

“Honestly… I’m speechless.”

“But you’re usually so good at conversation.”

He gave her a weary look which she brushed off with a laugh.

Something was making his head spin; her or the bubbles. Either way, he knew he needed to sit. So he slumped down onto Jester’s fairy tale rug.

A second later, she joined him.

“I am sorry for all this,” he said, gesturing to the streamers of flowers that Veth had lovingly hung from every inch of the ceiling.

“Why are you sorry? Look, my drink has a strawberry in it! I feel so fancy.”

“Well, you are one to make the best of a bad situation, I suppose.”

“This is a bad situation?”

“No. Of course, I enjoy any time we spend together. But Veth, you know, she isn’t terribly good at judging boundaries.”

“It gave us an excuse to dress up though. Which you should do more often, by the way.”

He shook his head as it turned a light pink, fumbling with the tassels on the rug beneath.

“You get so flustered so easily!” she cried, poking his side. “Come on, Caleb! Let me tell you how pretty you look.”

“You know I’m awkward, I don’t know what you expected.”

“You’re right. You are very awkward and it’s very cute.”

She poked up from his side, to his shoulder, to his cheek. He had never blushed so hard in his entire life before.

“Caleb,” she cooed, patting his cheek repeatedly with the tip of her finger.

It was the gentlest touch he’d ever felt and yet it was also like the bang of a gong on his heart.

“Caleb, come on. Look at me.”

He didn’t think his heart could handle looking at her right then and there. Not when she was so very close, being so very affectionate.

“I can’t,” he said. “I can’t. It’s too much.”

“I’m not going to bite you. Unless you ask then maybe I’ll consider it.”

“How do you do that so easily?”

“Bite people?”

“Tease me,” he said.

She laughed and it was nails on a chalkboard as much as it was the sound of soft waves on white beaches.

“Caleb,” she said, voice full of wonder as she moved her finger from his cheek to his chin. “You have a real butt chin, did you know that?”

“You’re obsessed with the butt chin,” he said.

“I just think it’s the cutest.”

He turned, finally, to meet her eye.

She was closer than he had imagined and he knew there was no hiding what the proximity was doing to his head, his heart, his ruby red face.

He realised he was staring at her. But more than that, he realised she was staring at him.

There was a wicked spark in her eye as she said, “You want to kiss me don’t you?”

Even if he’d been able to think of a response, he wouldn’t have been able to voice it. It was crazy, he knew, how she turned him into a babbling fool. After everything he’d seen and done. She had the capacity to bring out the teenager he thought he’d lost a long time ago.

“Jester, I-”

“You what, Caleb?”

It was only in the second before their lips met that Caleb fully understood that they were about to kiss. That they were kissing.

He thought perhaps it was the sweetest kiss he’d ever had; just lips pressed against lips, eyes closed, hearts pounding. It must have only lasted a handful of seconds.

Jester was the one to pull back and he thought he’d die from the embarrassment of instinctively chasing her lips.

But, with great courage, he opened his eyes and looked at her. Really and truly looked at her. She was alight. Really and truly.

“Oh,” he said stupidly. “Wow.”

At that, she burst into a fit of giggles the likes of which he’d never seen before.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I don’t know why I said that.” She only laughed harder. “Oh dear. I really am a mess.”

“Caleb.”

“Jester?”

“I was disappointed when you asked me to be your business partner. But not because I don’t want to work with you.”

“Then why-”

“I was disappointed,” she pressed on firmly, “Because I thought you were going to ask me on a date.”

Caleb broke in the best possible way.

The world had shattered into something unrecognisable and he had never been so grateful. The only thing that anchored him to reality, in that moment, were the tips of Jester’s fingers brushing against the underside of his jaw.

“Oh, I’d never do that,” he breathed.

“You wouldn’t?”

“No. I’m far too much of a coward. You’ll have to take the lead.”

When she leaned in again to press another kiss against his lips, she was smiling so widely that he could feel it.

The world righted itself ever so slowly and, after some time, he even let his hands tangle in her blue hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for enduring my self indulgent fluff for this beautiful couple! <3
> 
> Please comment I need validation


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